Roulette the Russian Way
by Bodaciousbagel
Summary: A friendly game of roulette with Russia. America, England, Canada, France, and Russia have no idea what will become of this 'game'.


_woosh...woosh...woosh…woosh…  
_The revolver spun round and round upon itself on the oak table. The faint clatter of the bullet within echoed throughout the still room. All breathing was quieted. All eyes were unblinking as the five people observed the gun's every movement.  
_woosh...woosh...woosh…_

"Let us play a game, da?"  
_It had started innocently enough. Times were tough. Money was sparse. If Ivan had a cheap form of entertainment, why not join in? A little fun never killed anyone.  
__woosh...woosh..._

It stopped. The barrel of the gun slowly turned to face a shivering Matthew. His blue eyes turned watery as he looked down at the revolver. Suddenly, Russia's game didn't sound so exciting anymore. Clutching the polar bear in his arms, Matthew wept silently.

"The rules are simple," _Russia explained as he led the three other nations to an empty confrence room._ "We spin the revolver, da? And if the barrel lands on you, pick it up. There are six chambers, one bullet. So the chances of losing are 1 to 6, da?"  
_Alfred skipped happily. This game sounded dangerous. And he was America; the hero. Danger was his middle name. He was totally going to beat Iggy!_

"Go on. Pick it up. It will not bite, da?" The Russian sneered from across the table. Matthew felt his palms begin to sweat. The only thing that scared him more than this game was Ivan and his creepy smile.  
"Do I need to come over there and pick it up for you?" Ivan asked snidely.  
"N-n-no. NO! I've got it. I can h-handle this." Canada slowly edged his shaking fingers toward the gun, holding his breath. He felt the cold metal and almost drew back in fear, but controlled his emotions quickly. Russia smiled at him, giving Matthew all the motivation he needed. As he put the gun to his head, he looked around the table. Arthur sat with his arms crossed, glaring at Alfred, who was in the process of a heroic monologue. Francis looked momentarily horrified as Canada took a deep breath.  
"Three."  
"Deux."  
"One."  
click. Matthew could have cried with joy. He had won. America flashed him two thumbs up; France smiled. Russia laughed and grabbed the gun from Canada.  
"Not so bad, da?" He chuckled, spinning the revolver again.

"Let me get this straight," _Francis mumbled as the small group reached the confrence room door,_ "if you get an empty chamber, you win. But if you don't get an empty one-"  
"You lose." _Ivan smiled.  
_"Hmph. Three winners, one loser. Sounds fair enough to me," _the_ _Englishman contemplated.  
_"But of course," _Russia smirked,_ "we Russians play fair always."

_woosh...woosh...woosh...woosh…  
_The spinning was going again. Francis felt a terrible urge to run out of the room while he could. He was seriously considering it, until he caught Alfred's eye. The American looked content; happy even. Like he had already won. _Well, I'll show him._ France thought to himself. There was no way in hell he was going to lose to an American.  
France's prideful eyes went cold when the spinning ceased.  
woosh...woosh...  
Francis sat staring at the barrel of Ivan's gun. _Gulp._

_Russia slowly opened the door. The nations cautiously stepped in, wary of danger. Once a mutual agreement of safety had been reached, the four men sat down. Ivan pulled a revolver from his coat and emptied the device.  
_"Empty, da?" _He showed it to England, sitting directly to his right. The blonde man nodded. Russia then proceeded to place a single bullet into his gun.  
_"Five empty chambers," _he placed the gun onto the table._ "One bullet," _his fingers skillfully spun the weapon.  
_"Let the games begin," _Alfred cheered, a little too brightly for the grim game._

Francis didn't need a warning from Ivan. His fingers found the gun and brought it to his head. With a quick glance at Matthew, he pulled.

Bangbangbang!  
_The five looked up from their game to the door. A frail man stood behind the opening, a small smile on his face.  
_"H-hi." _Canada waved shyly to the other nations sitting at the table_. "Are you guys playing a game?" _He asked, his timid side fading away. Russia nodded in response._ "Come join us, da?" _A flicker of panic flashed across France's face. Canada ignored this, and waltzed into the room.  
_"Now things get interesting, da?"

click.  
Safe. Francis made a mental note to take up religion when he got home. With a gentle motion, he placed the gun back on the table. Matthew beamed; Alfred looked slightly less ecstatic as Ivan began the cycle of fear over again.

"So what are we playing?" Canada _asked in a small voice. The gun on the table scared him. But France was here. France would protect him. France always protected him._

_woosh...woosh...woosh…  
_Two down. Three to go. Alfred wasn't liking his odds. At all.  
Russia had seemed to spin the revolver with less force this time. It began to slow down after a few seconds, slower and slower until it stopped, its barrel pointed directly at Alfred himself.

_Francis cursed under his breath. This was no place for Matthew to be, especially not when Ivan wanted to play these games. But, it was too late now. Canada knew what they were playing. And he wanted in. France chastised himself for making the kid so stubborn._

"You're not scared, are you, America?" France snickered as America's hand lingered over the gun.  
"Course not," he said, snatching up the weapon. "I'm the hero. Heroes aren't afraid of anything." He crossed his free fingers under the table and said a silent prayer.  
click.

"Let's begin again, da?" _Russia spun the gun. Round and round it went, their fates in its hands._

America breathed a sigh if relief. He was still the hero. But his joy soon turned to fear as he realized who was left in the game.  
Arthur had been sitting quietly throughout the entire ordeal. To be quite honest, he was bored. He didn't find any fun in Ivan's little game. England was quite convinced that there wasn't actually a bullet in the gun at all. And if there was, the Ivan's gun must have been a dud. One that never fired at all. That had to be it. Russia would never put his life into such danger.

_woosh...woosh...woosh...  
_Arthur was hardly surprised. The revolver had landed on him. Russia must have been setting it up like this; they would all take turns, one by one, and when it came to be Russia's turn, he would laugh at them all. 'Oh, look how scared you all were. There is no bullet. It was all just a joke.'  
Well, Arthur would show him. With no fear, the Englishman picked up the gun. He shook it gently. No noises. In fact, it felt completely empty. Ivan was such a trickster sometimes.

"Stop!" Alfred couldn't help himself. England looked up, an annoyed expression becoming apparent on his face.  
"You twit. Don't be brave. There's nothing to worry about; this gun is full of blanks. See?"  
"Iggy, STOP!" America lunged across the table to pull the gun away.

BANG!

The world was bathed in red so suddenly, it even caught Russia by surprise. The four remaining countries flew backward, frightened by the sudden noise. Matthew wept fiercely; Francis sat on the floor, motionless. Alfred lay on the table, still in mid-reach for the gun that now lay on the floor. His face was unrecognizable beneath the blood. Ivan had a strange look on his face; hardly relief, but still somewhat glad. He stood, calmly, and wiped his face with his sleeve, leaving a trail of blood running down his arm. Slowly, he picked up his revolver and replaced it in his pocket.  
"I do not like the way that game turned out. But, sometimes, life is like that." He crossed the room without another word, leaving a crying boy and his father, and a traumatized lover covered in blood.

Russia picked a bright yellow sunflower out of a garden as he walked home. The blood on his jacket was dripping all along the sidewalk, but he didn't care. It had been a good day. And a fun game of roulette always added to his bright mood. It was too bad about that Arthur boy though. He was nice.  
"Just not lucky, I suppose," he whispered to the flower.


End file.
